


Song of Joy

by MostlyAnon, naphy



Series: Laughter of the Gods [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoption, Baby, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Dragon-slaying, F/M, Family, Gen, Kadan, Love, Orphan - Freeform, Post-Dragon Age II, Vashoth, dragon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-03
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3675354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostlyAnon/pseuds/MostlyAnon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/naphy/pseuds/naphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time Bull had seen that look on the Boss’ face was when she’d found herself a pet baby dragon. She’d obviously cut out the dragon part this time.</p><p> </p><p>The Inquisitor finds a baby. Bull finds out a few things about himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third and final installment of The Laughter of the Gods series, by the amazing Naphy and I. You don't need to read Shades or Learning to Dance, (the other two) to understand this piece, though it will explain why Hawke is hanging around.

The Storm Coast was magnificent, even at the worst of times, which the Inquisitor was inclined to believe she lived in. A storm had moved in during an assignment, starting with a light rain that she’d ignored until too late. The rain hadn’t bothered her search for herbs. It was little more than an errand to gather them, one more thing that needed doing. She’d planned on exploring some of the caves while there, but hadn’t brought an entire crew, figuring on fleeing if she encountered worse than a stray bandit.

The storm was whipping raindrops into painful bites, the wind howling along the coast when she finally found a cave to take shelter in. Free of everything, including light, she forced a small stream of lightning along the length of her staff so she could explore the mouth of the dank cave. 

A boot caught her attention and she followed the length of leg to find the bloodied corpse of a Qunari woman, dead spider husks all around, knife still in hand. The Inquisitor murmured a prayer for her. 

A small movement caught her attention and she crouched, pushing the body up to see better. The tiny Vashoth was swaddled in rough cloth, half hidden under the dead body of its mother. Small horns were budding on the babe's head, its skin red underneath the silvery flush. 

The Inquisitor gathered up the child, looking back at the woman. "Look at you," she cooed when the child began to fuss. "Shh. All's well. Where are the rest of your people?" The woman might have been Tal-Vashoth, but even then, she wouldn't travel alone. The Storm Coast was too dangerous.

Of course, the elf was also alone, but that, she decided, was different. There were probably scouts everywhere, watching her. She rose, gently rocking the baby...boy, she discovered, peeking at his diaper. She made her way back to the mouth of the cave, scanning the distance for signs of one such scout. She'd need an escort back to Skyhold.

***

The Iron Bull had made his peace with the fact that his role in the Qun was to act as the voice of “don’t walk over the edge of the cliff” for the Inquisitor. Unfortunately, it was difficult to act as that Voice when the Inquisitor insisted on finding those cliffs _by herself_. She always said afterwards that she was trying to avoid causing trouble for her companions. Considering the amount of time Bull spent coordinating his spies to go after her and to try and clear out anything dangerous that she might happen to stumble upon, Bull wished she would spare him the consideration. Krem always said that Bull was like a mother hen with one missing chick while she was gone, but Bull knew it was more complicated than fearing for her safety.

The fact that the Boss didn’t consider the logistical effects of her leaving was a major, exploitable weakness.

It was the one thing both he and Hawke agreed on.

The fact that the Boss didn’t consider the personal effects of her leaving…

Well, that was one of the reasons, despite a fairly straightforward declaration of his feelings, that Bull wasn’t advancing the relationship side of their relationship.

Bull knew how he felt. He knew how the Inquisitor thought she felt. 

He needed to see some awareness that she knew how _other people_ felt before he proceeded any further.

Normally, Bull would let her proceed on these kinds of “solo” missions by herself. Unfortunately, his most recent scout had told him that they’d barely managed to clean out a wasp’s nest of Vint slavers who had nearly wiped out the remainder of the Valo-kas mercenary troop. The Valo-kas'd had a shitty run of luck between the Conclave and this latest mess. Bull had liked Adaar the one time they met and he hoped that she was one of the ones who’d survived the encounter. More importantly, if the Vints had wiped out one of the best troops he’d ever met, the Storm Coast was no place for his Boss to be running solo.

Which was why Bull was fighting his way through rain as thick as a dwarf’s arse-hair and trying to remember all the reasons he loved the Boss. 

As a tree nearly came down on top of his head, Bull hoped that it was too wet for the Inquisitor to find herself a cliff.

***

Scout Harding had responded to the Inquisitor's message, slogging through the mess of the coast to find her. The crows could be counted on to track and backtrack, but only if you could see the things. She'd had to turn around more than once, which was how she came upon the slaughtered remains of the Valo-Kas crew. She sucked in a breath and went through the grisly task of finding out what she could, piecing together the attack. An ambush, a nasty, long fight. A trail of blood.

She was practically to the Inquisitor's cave when she spotted The Iron Bull. Knowing he'd be a better escort than her, she cut across to meet him, making sure to make enough noise that she announced her arrival.

"Sir!" She shouted over the storm to catch his attention. Her report was succinct: the Inquisitor's request for an escort, her location, the ambushed mercenary company, and the signs that the company had a child with them, but no child had been with the bodies.

"If you'll see to the Inquisitor, I can start a search for the child," Harding told him, offering a short salute when he dismissed her. She faded back into the wilderness with more stealth than she'd arrived in.

It was the singing that caught Bull by the horns.

Third cave he’d explored when he’d heard it, somehow audible even through the heavy rain. He’d followed it like a man possessed, half-convinced he’d finally been caught by a desire demon. When he stood in the entrance of the fourth cave, his world dizzily spun and re-centered.

The Boss was always in motion, always animated. To see her so still, so focused- it tapped something Bull hadn’t even known he wanted. He closed his eyes again, letting the music wash over him.

The Inquisitor had made herself into a nest, the child content in her crossed legs. She'd watched her clan's youth when she was younger, had memories of mothers holding their babes in their lap while repairing sails or mending clothes. She had nothing else but the babe to focus on and so she sang old songs to it, tickling the tiny horns and feet as she did.

The gurgle pulled Bull abruptly to attention.

It had been dark and he’d been distracted, but that was no excuse for missing-

Bull’s eyes widened further. The last time he’d seen that look on the Boss’ face was when she’d found herself a pet baby dragon. She’d obviously cut out the dragon part this time.

“No,” he whispered, even as the Boss –finally- looked up towards him. The baby gurgled again and the Boss’ bright, brilliant smile didn’t so much shatter Bull’s resistance, as smother it into a whimpering death.

The sight of her bent over a small figure with horns, rocking and cooing… Bull’s stomach lurched unpleasantly. He thought of Adaar. He thought of the Valo-kas. He thought of Tama, eyes wide and sad.

He didn’t see any way this wasn’t going to end badly. 

It was impossible not to look at the tiny boy and not see Bull's features in the little face, feel the ghost of his great strength in the tiny grip. A harmless daydream, the Inquisitor convinced herself. Something given to any woman in love.

The sound of a branch breaking made her look up. The daydream lingered in her smile, as she gathered the boy and tucked her legs up to allow room for Bull's bulk. "His mother..." She frowned, shook her head. "Caretaker? Is dead." She nodded to the back of the cave. "Did you see his people? They must be looking for him."

She rose to show him the boy, smiling at the small sounds the child made upon the sight of Bull. "He's too small," she said quietly, busing the babe between his budding horns. "Is he supposed to be so small?"

Bull moved to the back of the cave as the Boss spoke, scouting for additional danger and-

He dropped to his knees beside the body. Gently, respectfully, he slid her eyelids closed, his head bowing slightly.

So much for Adaar. 

Pregnant. So that’s why she hadn’t gone to the Conclave with the rest of the Valo-kas elite. This was an entirely different thing now than before. There were debts owed from that time she’d stepped in to help the Chargers and Bull always repaid his debts. He had a responsibility to see that her son was safe and cared for.

Now how much of that to tell the Boss?

He looked back at her, trying to show off the Kid to him and carefully thought through his words.

“Probably a week or two at most, Boss. He’s a good size for that age. Going to need milk soon although he can probably feed himself in a pinch, if you’ve got some meat. His mother was a mean, tough piece-of-work-”

Bull paused, a brief shadow of regret and admiration passing over his face. “Kid’s got to be tough as dragon hide.”

He rose to his feet, deliberately not looking back at the body. “Don’t know how much of his family is left, but we’ll have to not get him killed in the meantime.”

Bull hadn’t meant to say ‘we’.

Bull had no intention of getting involved with anything that couldn’t speak and stab things.

As the Kid reached towards him, gurgling, Bull furrowed his face into a fierce frown for one of the most deadly enemies he’d ever encountered.

The babe reached out to grab at Bull's fierce face, gurgling in a definite lack of fear. The Inquisitor breathed out a laugh at the child's reaction, taking and kissing the tiny hand before looking around. 

"We'll take him to Skyhold," she said, handing him the boy carefully before heading back into the cave. "I'll send the scouts out, have them search the Coast."

She drew her knife and tore a long strip from the dead woman's warm, waterproofed cloak. Taking it and the baby back from Bull, she spread the cloth out and swaddled the child, twisting the tails into a sling. Amazing, how easily it came to her, the echoes of mothers past, watching clan women as they prepared for travel. She settled the boy comfortably across her chest, picked up her staff. "Maybe we should call him _Ataashi_ ," she said, as the boy yawned, showing tiny teeth. "Little dragon. Can you get us back to camp?"

He could, of course. Her faith was rock solid, and she followed him back, the baby covered and comfortable, a warm weight against her chest.


	2. Chapter 2

“-and after the third lightning strike, Harding said we were all insane and that she’d resign if the pay wasn’t so good, but we eventually made it back to Skyhold so that we could get Kid some milk.”

“Well,” said Krem, eyebrow raising, “that does explain why you were out bashing around in the worst storm in living memory, but it still doesn’t explain that.”

Krem gestured towards the sack attached to Bull’s chest just as Kid reached up and clawed the underside of Bull’s chin. With the lengthy practice of a week’s worth of experience, Bull pulled Kid up and over his shoulder, patting the Kid’s back until he felt the liquid start to slide down the length of his back. 

He looked over at Krem, hoping that the dark circles under his eyes weren’t as obvious as he suspected they were. The Chargers had been gone for a week and this was not how he’d planned to have Krem report in. “Boss has a political meeting. Josie wouldn’t let her bring Kid in with her. Pitched a fit about anyone other than me watching.” He shrugged, tucking Kid back into the swaddling bundle. “And here we are.”

Krem leaned over his cup of ale. “Don’t bullshit me. _Why?_ ”

Boss met his gaze, soothingly running his hand over the Kid’s back. “He was Adaar’s.”

Krem nodded, his eyes distant. “Dead then. I’ll tell the boys. We owe her a toast to her memory. They’ll want to help too, you know.”

Bull did know. Bull was trying not to think about it. Bull changed the subject. “Saw the pretty boy heading out of your tent this morning. Planning to share?”

“His blush is almost as broad as his… brogue.” Krem smirked, but there was a wistful undertone to it. “And that’s all you’ll get from me.”

“Ah,” said Bull, leaning back on his chair. He made a mental note to let Starkhaven know that Bull would be able to tell if Starkhaven sneezed behind closed curtains at midnight. Bull had a fondness for smooth-tongued pretty boys, but if Krem was making a serious tangle with him, then Starkhaven needed to know Bull would be there if he messed up.

Bull was so busy planning surveillance on the pretty boy that he almost missed the predatory gleam in Krem’s eye. Krem wasn’t Bull’s second-in-command because he was stupid. Right now, Bull wished that he was a little less persistent. 

“So,” Krem said, inspecting his fingers, “what’s this I hear about the throne room, Dorian’s mustache, and a well-placed ball of fire?”

Bull involuntarily looked down at the deceptively innocent looking baby cooing away against his chest. “Turns out that Boss ain’t the only one with some fire-control problems. Kid even laughed when it started burning.”

The worst part was that Dorian had been _even more_ determined to babysit.

The even worse part was that so was Madame de Fer.

***

The Inquisitor shook her head, moving a piece on the map. "Cullen will deal with it. Josephine, oversee the nobles in Orlais. Force is fine, here." She locked gazes with her advisors, unwilling to waste the time arguing over the obvious answer. They had been at it for what seemed like hours, debating political strategy, troop movements, and her own missions. Her head ached and she wanted to be back in time to feed Kid. 

She scanned the map once more, then nodded, dismissing everyone and turning her attention to finding her wayward lover and ward. 

"Inquisitor, a moment?" Cassandra fell into step with her. "About the child..."

The Inquisitor rubbed the bridge of her nose, dread making it itch. "You have news?" she asked.

"No, not as such," Cassandra said. "No traces of family, but we did locate a small crew of Qunari at a nearby port. They have offered to return the babe."

The Inquisitor stopped, then shook her head. "No," she said, starting for the tavern again.

"Just no?" Cassandra asked, after a minute.

"He stays with his people," she said, slipping into the tavern.

"But surely you can see this is no place for a child!" Cassandra protested, following. "The babe _would_ be with his people, if we send him to them."

The Inquisitor stopped and glared at Cassandra. "I said, no! He stays with us, not strangers that just happen to be the same species as he is." Lightning sparked at her words, making the boy in Bull's arms giggle,

Cassandra threw her arms up in defeat and shot a look at Bull. "You deal with her. She will not listen to reason."

The Inquisitor peeked in at the babe, humming her hello. "I will when I hear some," she said, softly.

Cassandra made a sound of frustration.

Bull shuffled out of the chair, trying to ignore Krem’s visible amusement. “No disrespect meant, Seeker, but maybe a few seconds to think about the role of mages in the Qun might be in order.”

Bull didn’t know what the fuck he was doing. He should have been ecstatic that the Inquisition was going to so nicely solve his problem for him, see that the Kid got training befitting his place in the Qun.

But all he could see was the Boss, Adaar – all the mages he’d known in and out of his roles. See them all bound and sewn, their eyes blank of anything but obedience.

He could justify it to himself all he wanted, but the cold truth was that he knew what Adaar would have wanted and his life debt to her came before anything the higher-ups could throw at him.

The news on the Valo-kas front wasn’t promising, but there was one other alternative that he’d consider acceptable.

“If Daddy storms here, all horns and bellows, we’ll chat. Until then,” Bull pulled the little guy up so that he could gnaw on the tip of Bull’s horn. Teething was a pain in the ass. “Until then, we got the situation under control.”

"He will _not_ be silenced," the Inquisitor said, voice quiet but ironclad and razor sharp. She met Cassandra's gaze, holding it until the other woman looked away. Cassandra shook her head and left.

The Inquisitor watched her go, then turned her attention to Bull and the baby, tickling the boy's tiny feet. "Blackwall made a crib," she said, unable to keep the smile from flirting around her lips. "It has dragons on it." It had been a surprising and touching gift, carved from a large log and, Blackwall had claimed, scraps he had leftover. The thing was shaped like a tiny avavel with carvings on the sides; she found it clever and perfect in her room. She'd hugged the Grey Warden for the gift of it, embarrassed a blush and rough throat from the man. 

Watching the boy now, chewing on Bull's horn, something nameless made her chest ache. She wanted this, wanted him with a baby gnawing on his horn and knowing they were hers. Not a never-ending fight against a nightmare future, not a mystical glowing hand, not endless pleas for help, but him and children and a life that seemed as simple as that.

It wasn't her life to have, a small part of her whispered in a cold voice. Nothing about that fantasy could be hers. Another woman's child and destiny marking her, she could _pretend_ all she wanted, but reality bit hard and never truly let go.

Hawke approached before she could say anything else, the Champion eying the baby as if it were a snake. Hawke was too constantly cautious to truly be called wary now, but she radiated a 'please keep that over there,' vibe.

"There's a dragon terrorizing Crestwood," she told the Inquisitor. "Varric and I mapped out likely roosting areas." She handed the Inquisitor the paper.

The Inquisitor didn't mention she'd specifically told the other woman to go find her a dragon. She looked at the map, then nodded. 

"We should check it out," she said, smiling up at the baby, who slobbered happily in response. Fire began to blossom along the babe's fingers and without pause, the Inquisitor reached up to take the tiny hands, control and then take the fire from him. It had been harder to do when the child began to freeze Solas the other day, but fire had always been her element. She dispelled it easily. 

"No burning The Bull," she admonished, standing on tiptoe to examine the horn. It was wet, but undamaged. "Send word to Crestwood that we'll take care of it," she said to Hawke.

***

 

Bull wasn’t sure what was more concerning: that the Boss hadn’t considered what was going to happen to the Kid while she was gone or that she had. Judging by her expression as she eyed the Kid, “hadn’t considered” wasn’t an option.

Adaar had fought with the child attached to her, but Bull knew that non-Qunari were weird about children and battles. To be fair, the Qunari spent their childhood with the Tamassrans. It was more accurate to say that non-Vashoth were weird about children and battles. Bull had spent enough time around Vashoth mercenaries to appreciate the safety of a protective mother. Far safer than leaving a baby with some mercenary who might slit their throat for coin.

He looked down at Kid busily trying to claw his way out of his swaddling so that he could go destroy the world. If any baby needed an early start on keeping his horns up, it was probably this one.

Decision made, Bull turned to the Boss. “So when are we leaving?”

“In the morning,” the Inquisitor said absently, studying the paper. “I’ll need some time to have Dagna make a hardened sling.” 

She blinked, looking up at Bull. Searching his face, she realized he understood she meant to take the child with them, and hadn’t protested. Her smile was a slowly blossoming thing, warming her gaze. “Hawke?”

“I’m in,” the Champion said, shaking her head at the pair of them. And people thought she was touched in the head. She’d never dragged Varric out dragon-hunting and considered it romantic.


	3. Chapter 3

Bull was hiding behind a rock watching the Boss change the Kid’s swaddling bottoms. Watching her sing quietly as she bent over the baby, Bull was harder than he’d ever been at any point in his life.

He was so unbelievably fucked.

“A little help here, Tiny.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bull dove out from behind the rock, barely missing being gored by the dragon’s claws. He expertly rolled, bringing his sword up to slice at the tendon, allowing his momentum to carry him clear of the body.

Varric glared at him as Bull came to a stop beside him.

Neither he nor Hawke had said what they thought of dealing with the Kid’s upset stomach in the middle of fighting a massive dragon. Hawke’s withering glare was answer enough. 

“If you get my dwarf killed because you two idiots are playing happy families, I will gut you and hang your cock from the top of Skyhold’s tower.”

Well, that was pretty clear too.

Bull grinned from ear to ear, so happy that it hurt. He waggled his eyebrow at Hawke. “Knew you wanted my cock, but I’m afraid I’m a taken Bull. If you can convince the Boss, though…”

Bull barely ducked her sword as he laughingly charged at the dragon.

The Inquisitor blew a raspberry on the baby’s cheek, then slung him back over her shoulder, so the babe rested comfortably against her front without restricting her ability to move her staff. She shot a fireball at the dragon as she rose, then recast her barriers.

“I don’t think we’d all fit in the bed,” she mused, as she began to trace the runes needed to call up lightning.

“Bed?” Varric asked, reloading Bianca. “Damn, I have to rewrite my last chapter. I had you—“ He was cut off when the dragon swung around to focus on him, only to find Hawke was already there, sword up and teeth bared in a hellish grin.

“C’mon,” she taunted the dragon, ducking the flame and diving under its head, aiming for a throat-slice. 

Lightning lit up the beast’s scales, and the baby laughed in delight as the Inquisitor called the heavens down upon the dragon. It moaned in pain, lashing out blindly. She cupped one hand on the child and slammed her staff down, driving up a wall of ice to block the beast from fleeing, drive it back towards Bull and Hawke.

“Ah-ch-ch,” she chided the child, as the tips of her hair began to smoke. She dispelled the baby’s fire, kissed his forehead as she ducked behind a tree. “Had us where?” she called to Varric.

“Barn scenes are always popular,” Varric commented.

“I certainly enjoy them,” Hawke agreed in an undertone as she went past, after the dragon’s eye. 

The Inquisitor considered the idea, eyeing Bull as he attacked, enjoying the stretch and pull of his muscles, sheened with sweat. She recast his barrier, licking her lips and tasting salt. “Bed, barn…” she shrugged, indicating either would lead to her satisfaction.

***

 

Bull knew the instant he’d torn open the dragon’s throat that he’d made a terrible mistake.

He hadn’t paid attention when he’d lost track of the conversation, had ignored the haze rising in his head. He’d been so happy, so stupid, he’d ignored the primary rule of Qunari dragon-fighting.

He’d always remembered before about that little twist on Qunari breeding. About how the blood and the hormones of the dragons sang to the Qunari blood. Normally he ran his meditations, blocked his mind while he fought. Still enough to enjoy it, but not enough to live it.

So caught up in his pretend family, his pretend life, Bull had forgotten.

Bull knew enough to fear and then the haze overwhelmed him. He turned, coolly assessing the dead body and the creatures standing off to the side. His nose was full of dragon blood and dragon scent and his mate was right there and he hadn’t appropriately marked her and why was he even waiting?

Bull moved.

His mate was up against the rock and he was pressed against her back, his hand underneath the sling, underneath her shirt, claws pricking into the soft skin of her breast.

The last part of Bull’s mind that was still sane debated whether it would be faster to cut an opening in her pants with his claws or just slice everything off and deal with the pieces later.

When the Kid made an offended yipping noise, Bull leaned into the Boss’ ear, so close that he could feel the fine hairs on her skin.

“Give the Kid to Hawke. Now.”

The elf fumbled the tie, lifting the sling up, over her shoulders, turning in Bull’s arms so that her head fell back against the rock, letting Bull have her neck. Eyes glazed with the sudden rush of need, she found Hawke close enough to hand the sling to before her attention was fully on Bull. She hooked a leg over his hip and hitched herself higher, settling against him with a contented moan.

Hawke stared at the sling hanging from her hands, then looked up at the—

Her eyes widened and she spun around, putting her back to them. “Right,” she said, mostly to herself. She held the sling by its knot, away from her, and looked down at the tiny child.

Behind her, the Inquisitor murmured something low and hot, snagging Bull’s horns to pull his mouth down to her own.

“Varric!” Hawke shouted, moving carefully but quickly around the dead dragon to find her dwarf. He could take the baby. He could take the baby and then she wouldn’t have to find out if setting the child on the ground was a viable option, because she desperately needed to get the acidic dragon’s blood off her sword and she _couldn’t do that holding a tiny life._

Bull watched the creature retreat, his son in tow. The creature was safe enough for now. They would plan better next time after his mate was properly scented.

“Do you want that?” He whispered in her ear, each phrase punctuated with a harder thrust. “Do you want a swollen belly full of our next child?”

He listened to her scent, to her moans and bit deep into the curve of her neck allowing her blood to mix with the dragon’s blood on his tongue. He ran the blood along the length of her ear as he spoke, “Conceived in the blood of our enemies, blessed by the _Ataashi_?”

The Inquisitor’s low moan was his answer, his words a shiver down her spine. Her fingers scrabbled at the straps of his armor, then bit hard into the muscles of his arms when he pushed deep against her, woke a maelstrom of feelings within. Wet with want and eyes dark, she rolled her hips in challenge, bit down on the lobe of his ear and tasted blood and sweat against her tongue.

“Yes,” she hissed, prayed, demanded, the word sparked against her lips. She lifted her head only to see Hawke disappear around the carcass of the dragon, ( _the sun on Bull’s flesh a caress, making him golden as his sword sang, weapon and man in complete harmony, singing out to her,_ ) and knew her boy to be safe, their privacy assured.

Her eyelashes shuttered her gaze, fingertips stealing quick and wicked between them to his belts, pushing them up, aside, finding the man beneath and gripping him hard. “Bull, yes.” It was a plea, soft but the demand unmistakable; there was too much between them, fire racing through her veins.

One slice for all of those extra pieces to fall away. They were in the way of what Bull wanted and he had no regrets. 

Some part of Bull that was not a consuming pulse of fire noted that she had consented, that she had agreed. Then it was gone and the haze returned, Bull moving.

His mate would conceive in pleasure.

He would make sure of it.

Then he thought no more.

***

Bull sat in his tent, staring at his hands, staring at the box that contained his two pieces of dragon tooth. 

Once a liar, always a liar.

He just hadn’t realized that he had been lying to himself.

He had made sure not to let the Boss know what was happening when he came back to himself, realized what he had accidentally revealed- to both him and her. He had been tender, solicitous, and five seconds from running away in panic.

It had been consensual.

It had been everything that he knew but had tried to prevent himself from realizing.

Oh, he had told himself he was willing to try new paths, to step out of the role he had been set, but he had been playing the coward. He had let the Boss build a family on top of them without ever acknowledging that he was participating just as fully as she was.

All the dragon had done was to strip away the lie.

He didn’t know if he’d succeeded in his insane wish, but if he was going to be that man then he needed to fully put his head in the game. The Boss and the Kid deserved that much. He needed to go out and pull himself together. Make sure, first, that the Boss and the Kid didn’t think he was deserting them.

If he was going to be that man, he was going to be that man with everything he was.

When Krem slipped into his tent, Bull’s voice was steady. “Find me and the boys something to kill.”


	4. Chapter 4

They came to meet The Inquisitor.

Part of her knew the boy’s clan would come for him, the same part that knew she had a long, bloody fight before her, one with many lost battles and lives. She had expected a clan, arriving together, expected Bull by her side when navigating the pain. She had not expected a runner, a messenger that came to request an audience with Her Worship, had not expected to face it alone, with Bull gone out to clear bandits with the rest of the Chargers.

She sat on the cold, hard throne and stared hard at the closed doors of the Hall, hearing nothing but echoes. A name, Adaar, a mage Tal-Vashoth, the ambush, the horror of thinking the babe had been lost with his mother, or worse, claimed by those who would return him to the Qun. Gratitude, and the small boy in another’s arms.

She now had the mercenary company’s endless loyalty and an empty crib.

A voice distracted her; Josephine telling her it had been the only true choice, how lucky they were that the Valo-kas were now their allies. The Inquisitor nodded because she should nod, because the Inquisition was indeed very lucky to have the help.

She rose from the cold, hard throne and left the empty hall for the stables. There was work to be done, endless help to be given. She’d been meaning to make contact with a group of rebels in the Dales. She had time now.

Hawke watched her go and turned a glare on Josephine. “ _That_ was the best you could do? Delay them.”

“I do not understand your meaning,” Josephine said, glancing up from her mobile desk in surprise. “This has all been dealt with satisfactorily. We had no claim to the child and now the Valo-kas have reason to help us.”

“Fool,” Hawke cursed, shaking her head. “Use your influence to keep them in the area. If they’re gone when I return…” The threat hung in the air, chased after her like the hound already on her heels. She would need to ride hard to catch Bull in time.

Varric fell in behind her. “I’ll keep an eye on her,” he said and she was thankful she didn’t need to explain herself. “I’ll take Buttercup with me. Word is Tiny’s down on the coast.”

Hawke paused and kissed him breathless. “I’ll be back as soon as I find him,” she said, then set her hound on the scent. She just hoped the Qunari could fix the mess before the Inquisitor got too far.

***

 

Bull sat comfortably in the darkened room, no sign of the intense rage and fear-driven marathon he had taken to reach there.

He was positioned very deliberately and so, when the other Qunari appeared in the door, wincing slightly at the sudden change of light, Bull saw him immediately. Bull had hoped that it wouldn’t come to this, but he’d had plans in place to deal with the potential. That the Valo-kas had waited until he’d gone to act told him not to underestimate his opponents.

“Shokrakar,” said Bull.

“The Iron Bull,” said the leader of what was left of the Valo-kas mercenary company.

They hadn’t waited, the Valo-kas. Bull hadn’t bothered to go back to Skyhold when Hawke reached him, instead calling in every member of his spy network to track them and set up the current opportunity. 

Two days later, their camp surrounded, the leader had agreed to meet him in the empty shack. They were close enough to the camp that Bull could hear the occasional murmurs from the rest of the Company. 

Bull drew the silence out, watching the leader for a reaction. Bull had to admit that the bas was tough. It didn’t mean that Bull wouldn’t break him like a twig if necessary.

“I understand,” Bull said, leaning back on his chair, “that you have my son. I want him back.”

Shokrakar let a soft whistle come out from between his teeth. “So that’s the way of it then. Adaar always had the sexual sense of a _qalaba_.”

He lifted his hand casually, calculatedly to scratch at his horn. “Funny thing though. I thought her last relationship was pretty serious. He was a pretty fool, but I didn’t see Adaar tumbling anyone to the side.”

Bull’s smile was more a baring of teeth. “He. Is. My. Son. You’ve kept yourself out of the way of the _Sten_ and the _Beresaad._ Don’t think that can’t change.”

Shokrakar didn’t move, didn’t bend. He looked Bull straight in the eye, his head held high. “I know you, _Hissrad._ You going to sew him up, bind him to you with a chain? There aren’t many of us left, but we’ll die before we dishonor our sister that way.”

Bull was on his feet, the red rising behind his eyes. Because he had. He had sent back the mages screaming, screaming until their eyes went blank-

A sharp, familiar wail came from the camp and Bull was gone. He had no memory of movement or running. One moment he was in the shack, the next moment the Kid was in his arms, two unconscious Vashoth guards laid out on the ground.

“Gotcha, little guy,” Bull murmured, rocking him back and forth. Unbidden, a distant memory of Tama, of his own childhood rose within him. With a voice awkward with a long lack of practice, Bull slowly began to sing an old Qunlat nursery song. He nuzzled the top of that small, sweet head and the Kid settled, melting boneless against his shoulder, his cries replaced with soft snorts of contentment.

Bull looked up and met Shokrakar’s gaze.

“No chains then,” the leader said softly, suddenly looking every one of his many years.

“No chains,” said Bull and fought the unfamiliar prickling tension at the back of his eye.

***

Hawke had stayed with Bull— blade ready as a back up, even if he had his crew. The empty look in the Inquisitor’s eyes had stayed with her, kept her and her hound where they could help. Hawke had few comforting words left in her, but plenty of fight.

She didn’t relax her guard until she rode with Bull, son firmly in his possession, and the rest of the Chargers, through the great gates of Skyhold. If Bull relaxed his guard then, it wasn’t noticeable to her— she swung off the mount she’d taken to fetch him, whistling out in a sharp triple trill. A single note came back to her and she followed her hound to find Varric in the shadows off the courtyard. He had papers with him, letters, but Bianca was strung and ready beside him, dark circles under his eyes marking the passage of time.

“She’s sleeping,” Varric murmured to Hawk, gesturing with his chin to the small crevice that formed a sun-washed hide-hole for the Inquisitor. “Finally,” he added with a weary sigh. “Tell me you…”

She nodded, stepping aside as Bull approached. She didn’t need to tell him where he’d find the Inquisitor; the Qunari had already put pieces together. Instead, Hawke took her dwarf and went to find some solitude.

The Inquisitor wasn’t asleep, laid out on the sun warmed rock. She was very carefully constructing the next few days worth of work, in her mind, arranging errands and missions so that she could avoid sleeping, slowing down, and time to think. Time to ache.

She simply didn’t have the energy to get up and start again. Not yet.

Bull didn’t speak when he found the Boss, her eyes as empty as the remains of burnt out candles. Instead, he forced himself sideways through the tiny crack that led to her sanctuary and propped the Kid on his hip.

When she finally looked up, Bull drew his mate and his son into his arms.

He didn’t let go.

The elf pressed herself against Bull, ducked her head to the child and inhaled the sweet, fresh scent of the boy. Back. They were back.

A breath escaped her in a shudder, then another one. No tears, just a deep, gasping breath and gratitude.

It was like waking from a nightmare and not trusting the shadows to be safe. She slept with the crib empty, the child tucked safely between her and Bull, nestled in the heart of the most defensible fortress she could claim. Still she woke, caught in the grips of terror, staring at the babe’s chest, listening to his and Bull’s breath.

No, she did not get a simple life of a man and children. For her, a warrior and her child, no matter the mother. She would rip the heavens from the sky before she lost either again.

She slid from the bed, careful, and went to her desk, found the tooth she’d hidden in a drawer. It fell apart into two pieces, broken carefully, and with skilled fingers, she bent to work on binding the pieces with string, knotting them into place on matching necklaces.

***

 

Bull ran his fingers over the split pieces of dragon tooth. He didn’t know why he was hesitating anymore. His old tent was a storage space rather than a living space. He spent half his day teaching his son to shock Dorian when the Vint wasn’t looking. (The Vint made such cute noises of indignation. Bull was faithful but he wasn’t _dead_.) He spent the other half of the day looking after the Boss, spending time with the Boss, and fucking the Boss into the mattress. Oh, and occasional excursions out with his boys or his scouts, then back to his son and his Boss.

He knew that he had his mate and his family. 

He also knew that a small voice inside him said, “Not _yet._ ”

It was the small voice that had allowed him to duck the killing blow, turn down the poison, know what to do to soothe his son.

Bull trusted that voice, but he also knew that, one way or another, this was not something he’d be putting off much longer.

If he was honest with himself, he knew why he was hesitating. The latest message from Par Vollen reminded him of just how far he had fallen… and how much he now had to lose. When he’d told the Boss about the potential alliance with the Qunari she could gain by this new joint operation, half of him had hoped that she would refuse.

The spider’s web had been there all along, but Bull could feel the strings now being pulled, trying to draw him back to the center.

The small voice in his head was cold, matter of fact. “A wheel that is working needs no attention. If they are looking at you directly… You know the fate of broken wheels.”

For once, Bull hoped that his small voice was wrong.


	5. Chapter 5

The Inquisitor scanned the coast, resettling the sling absently. The boy slept soundly through most of the trek up to the Coast. Small as he’d been, he’d soon be too large for her to carry in the sling for long periods of time. 

“He needs a name, soon,” she said to Bull, as she watched for his contact. She had her doubts about allying with the Qunari, despite the strength they’d bring. The Felicisima Armada had contacted Josephine shortly after Bull had told her of the potential alliance. Either alliance had its dangers.

“So small, the world is a challenge. He does not need a name,” Cole said, his smile slight, but confused. “He _is_ his name.”

“Right,” the Inquisitor said, watching as an elf approached them, a broad smile on his face. “Of course.”

She glanced back at Krem and the rest of the Chargers, then back at the elf accusing Bull of being a liar. She cupped a hand over the child's head, protectively, allowing Bull to plot out the plan.

***

 

Not a Gatt. They’d sent _the_ Gatt. Any hope Bull had of this not being a prod of the squeaky wheel vanished into nothing. 

_Liar_ said Gatt, and Bull read all the words underneath it. If he didn’t perform today, didn’t show the world why they’d sent him out here in the first place, more than just his pride would be broken.

_I know what it’s like out here._

Gatt did know. And he _hated_ it. The Ben-Hassrath could hardly have picked a harsher judge. Gatt had also set up a fucking dreadnought situation. Even under the best of circumstances, there were too many ways for shit to go wrong. Bull's spies had barely been able to operate before the details had been sprung on him, but what little information they’d given suggested different numbers than the Qunari reports.

Qunari reports weren’t known for their inaccuracy.

The whole thing stunk.

Bull didn’t dare look too long at the Boss or his son, hanging so vulnerably from her neck. He hoped that she’d forgive him what he was about to do, the different loyalties so snarled in his head they became a great black hole of recrimination and second-guessing.

Krem knew.

His eyes were so fucking understanding that Bull had to bite back the urge to vomit. He didn’t need the warning under the words, because he already knew.

“Just… pay attention, all right? The Vints want this red lyrium shipment bad.”

_Be careful. I’m sorry._

“Yes I know, Mother.” 

_I know what I signed up for. No regrets._

Bull held his gaze, tried to communicate everything he couldn’t say out loud. “Qunari don’t have mothers, remember?”

_But Vashoth do and elves do and my son won’t be like me. And neither of us can look towards him because that fucking Gatt will figure it out._

“We’ll be fine, Chief.”

_We’ll die with our horns up._

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say it and Krem turned to the others, because Krem knew Bull better than Bull knew himself. “All right, Chargers! Horns up!”

And they went out brave and bold and proud on the easier path.

The path where, if there was a trap, a trap would be sprung.

And Bull looked at his mate and his son and knew what kind of man he was.

The whole situation made her tense. There was a lot going unsaid, a lot she didn’t hear. But the answers Gatt gave were neat, practically tied with a bow. Time with Hawke had taught her to stay loose when wary, so she questioned Gatt, but didn’t alter any plans Bull made. Putting the Chargers on the easier point made sense to her; numbers didn’t guarantee a stronger force. She wondered what type of leader did put their forces against the stronger target, when they could face it themselves. What type of soldier questioned such a choice.

She knew what type of man hers was, and was glad not to have known who he might have been. There was never a question as to which target they would take.

She didn’t let Gatt take Bull’s back. 

The flare echoed off the cliffs. The Inquisitor watched the dreadnaught, its bulk a dark strength in the water. Movement caught them all, a secondary force moving in on the Chargers.

Bull hesitated.

The Inquisitor looked up at him. “They can still retreat,” she reminded him, leaving the offer open, the decision meant for him. She didn’t run the Chargers, only commanded the company. Bull was listening to the Gatt, listening to options that weren’t worth considering. She saw the hesitation rip at him, and desperation in his eyes when he turned to her.

She put iron in her voice. “Call the retreat.”

They were his people.

“Don’t!” The Gatt groaned, but there was no bending her will. She turned to watch the retreat, one hand cupped over their child’s head, the other holding her staff loose, ready. Let the Gatt groan, she would not be bent to anyone’s will, not if it meant sacrificing an ally for potential alone.

The horn echoed as the Gatt railed against her choice. Her voice snapped out only once: “His name is The Iron Bull.”

“You have lost a powerful ally,” the Gatt said, watching Bull. 

“No,” she said, watching the Chargers crest the hill, safety assured. “The Qunari have lost a powerful ally in the Inquisition.” She waited until the other elf looked at her, met his gaze with ice in her own. “Tell the Ben-Hassrath that.”

Tell them about the warning in her eyes, the fire that came so easy to call, the sound of boots marching in line. Tell them of the Inquisition, she said, without voice. Tell them of Andraste’s chosen, who would not jump through their hoops, take their tests and hope to be found worthy. Of leaders who took the stronger target, of forces unrivaled. Men and women who did not fight because it was their role, but because it was their choice.

If they came for her man, they would find the full force of her command between them. Tal-Vashoth. No.

_Hers._


	6. Chapter 6

The Inquisitor could hear the celebration in the tavern, as the Chargers drank their way through the stores of mead. It was a worthwhile thing to celebrate and she’d seen her son laughing and snuggled up with Krem before she’d dragged Bull away from it, to the abandoned bedroom above. One day, they might get around to putting a ceiling over it, but for now, it was warm enough and the stars were bright.

She reached over him to her robes, fishing something from the pocket. When she settled down again, she pressed her ear to Bull’s wide chest and heard his heartbeat as it slowed, skin still cooling from the claiming that had come before.

Without looking at him, she opened her hand and dropped the necklaces onto Bull’s chest, the tooth falling into two pieces against his skin.

 

***

 

Bull had carried it for most of the celebration, burning a hole in his pocket. He’d gotten a bit… distracted, but it was past time. There was no indecision left, no room for doubt or regrets.

He gently placed the two pieces of teeth attached to the re-spun cords of his former epaulets in front of his kadan, even as he felt a soft weight hit the center of his chest.

Bull looked down at his chest.

Bull looked over at his Boss.

Bull burst into relieved, thank-the-fuck-the-gods-aren’t-quite-finished-screwing-with-us laughter.

He raised his hand to run his fingers through her impossibly soft hair. “So kadan, one of each?”

The Inquisitor blinked at the tooth-- teeth-- before her and couldn't help but laugh with Bull. She sat up, scooping up the necklaces. Clever fingers divided the teeth, then braided four to make two. 

"Kadan?" she asked, leaning forward to tie his necklace on.

Bull accepted the necklace, placed his hand over her chest. “Where the heart lies.”

And the loyalty. And the life.

The center of all things.

Still some paths unexplored, some parts not understood, but he knew where all of them returned.

Later that night, after celebrations and understanding and moments too private to share even with his thoughts, Bull rose from the Boss' bed and made his way to the room next door. Bull quietly slid into the nursery, his movement not disturbing the man bent over the crib. To be fair to the intruder, he’d given no sign of his entrance. It was only a gut instinct that had told Bull to head to the nursery. Bull had learned to listen to those gut instincts.

The intruder didn’t raise his head, the moonlight making his blonde hair look almost like a halo, his ears even more sharp-edged than in daylight. “The little one has her horns, her hands.”

Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. 

Bull moved over to the crib, not looking at the man beside him. “She was a remarkable woman.”

The elf kept his hands on the crib’s railing, the only sign of his agitation the whitening of his knuckles as he gripped the wood. “My queen.”

Bull looked down at Kid. “Not an accident then.”

The elf’s hand jerked, but his voice was steady. “So fierce as she grew large, _mi bella._ My blades mixed with her staff in such beautiful music. Then afterwards to lay my head against her and hear the future…”

Bull’s voice was distant, reflective. “The one time you weren’t with her-”

“We fought,” said the elf. “She was so large and I had a… bad feeling. I have learned to take care of my bad feelings. I woke and she was gone _and I could not find her_.”

The elf did not reach towards Kid, turning instead to Bull. “I have been watching. He is all hers, in body and heart. I am… glad.”

Kid had started to wake, his eyes fluttering open. Bull looked at the man beside him. “He has your eyes.”

“Yes,” said the elf, stepping backwards, “he does.”

Bull looked at him, framed in the moonlight, and thought how easy it would have been for their places to be switched. “You’re not going to claim him.”

The elf met his gaze, his eyes such pits of hell that Bull felt an involuntary shiver down the back of his neck. “She made me more than I was. This gift I can give her.”

He stopped as he reached the edge of the balcony. “If you fail him in any way, no matter how far you run, no matter where you hide, I will find you.”

Bull nodded.

When the night was completely still, he picked Kid up and rocked him against his shoulder. The old nursery song was the only sound to fill the darkness.


	7. Epilogue

Bull had wondered when he was going to get the summons from the higher-ups. His network was still responding to him, but he didn’t hold out hope that would be for much longer. When one of his “scouts” showed up with the summons to an abandoned villager’s cottage just outside of Skyhold, Bull knew that the axe was about to fall.

The “scout” that led Bull to the darkened building hesitated before she opened the door.

“You know,” she said, teeth worrying her lip in an unusual display of nerves, “we’re just as much yours as the Chargers, maybe more. It’s _you_ we’re risking our lives for, not-”

She cut off as Bull walked in, but he was still puzzling over her words when he realized who was waiting for him. As soon as he saw Gatt, the remaining pieces fell into place.

It had been a set-up.

Of course it had been a set-up.

There would have been another warship around the bend of the point, come to mop up the remains long after the Inquisitor had left. For their little test of resolve, the _Besrathari_ wouldn’t have risked more than a skeleton crew and a hold full of _gaatlok._ Too much waste otherwise. The Inquisition was valuable, but not valuable enough to risk an entire contingent on an Inquisitor known for her stubbornly non-Qun-based decisions and a half-broken _hissrad._

The Gatt, and the reminder of Bull’s failure in Seheron, had been as much a warning as an incentive.

“Ship was empty, of course.”

Gatt smiled slowly, obviously pleased. “Of course.”

Bull knew what was coming, had known since the moment he saw the “unnoticed” Vints appear on the beach. If there was one thing the leaders of the Qun liked more than making sure you knew your place in the Qun, it was testing you to make sure you knew your place in the Qun.

“You want me to play at Tal-Vashoth. Keep reporting back, but pretend the ties are cut.”

The _Gatt_ was smug, self-satisfied in his role and purpose. “I told them you’d see it immediately. With the amount you’ve gotten while openly serving and the success of this band of basra… The kind of information you could gain if they think you’re cut off could advance the path into the continent by decades.”

Gatt looked up, all the zeal of a convert burning in his eyes. “If that pet of yours wins, the Qun could be sitting behind her chair, directing the path.”

Bull touched the tooth hanging around his neck, thought of Tama, thought of a thousand branching pathways.

He smiled, his voice a low, even drawl. “Not sure I’m up for faking this kind of thing. Too old for this kind of shit.”

He looked the _Gatt_ straight in the eye, let the ghost of Seheron wash over him and pass into nothing. “Consider this my resignation.”

Whistling an old Qunlat nursery song, Bull walked out into the sun.


End file.
